 | Sir Thomas Overbury |  |
116
PROLOGUE
WRITTEN BY AARON HILL, ESQ.
New to the stage—by no past praises fir'd!
Young, and unfam'd, and but by hope inspir'd:
Raise us to reach that hope's ambitious call,
Or with soft pity, break our threaten'd fall.
Small tho' our merit be, your minds are great,
And undeserv'd applause may worth create:
Sweetness sits smiling, where the heart beats true,
And they praise most, to whom most praise is due.
Low let me court ye to befriend our cause!
If justice pleads not, generous pity draws.
In a full world, our author lives, alone
Unhappy!—and, of consequence, unknown:
Yet, amidst sorrow, he disdains complaint;
Nor languid, in the race of life, grows faint.
He swims, unyielding, against fortune's stream,
Nor to his private suff'rings, stoops his theme:
Adopts the pains which others undergo,
And, for your pleasure, feels not his own woe.
They shou'd themselves be pleas'd, who love to please;
And he who fears not mis'ry, merits ease.
Oh!—save unfriended virtue from distress—
'Tis the divine prerogative—to bless!
117
Where love kills friendship, and awakes despair;
Where cherish'd mischiefs tow'r above controul,
And warring passions rend the tortur'd soul!
Taught by the pictur'd woes, which weep to-night,
Let long-weigh'd caution guide your wishes right:
Slow, thro' your eyes, give smiling ruin way;
Love, by that pass, but enters to betray!
Beauty fades fast—nor will it's transient grace
Sooth the sick bosom, when the thought takes place.
But when twin souls each other's transport claim,
And pant and burn, and twist their struggling flame,
Safe let 'em meet, by no false fears oppress'd;
Form'd to be one, and, till rejoin'd, unbless'd!
| Sir Thomas Overbury | |